The Many Uses of Storage Closets
by Yumeshojo
Summary: Warrant Officer Crow is known for being mentally unstable at times, and never social. So when Second Lieutenant Falman shows her a bit of kindness, she decides to return the sentiment. But more develops than she expected... OC X Falman
1. The Many Uses of Storage Closets

_I just finished reading Fullmetal Alchemist chapter 97 and thought "Wow, go Falman!" And then "Falman needs more love." Thus, this little brain child was born. When I got done with it, Freesia's character nagged me. 'Who does she remind me of?' And then it hit me - Rin, from Fruits Basket! From the temper trantrums to the Sadako looks, she's like a combination of Rin and - laugh - Machi! lol I do have an idea for a second chapter - if I ever finish it ^_^  
_

**Disclaimer: I doth dis/the claiming of this/a story I wrote/tho characters I don't/and thus I say/to end this way/DON'T BE RETARDED, I OBLIVIOUSLY DON'T OWN ANYTHING! *runs away sobbing at your insensitivity***

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When the door to the storage room opened, I ignored it. It wouldn't be the first time someone walked in on me...doing _it._ I mean, it wasn't like it was a secret. This was what I did when I couldn't...deal. The Colonel had gotten onto me a couple of times in the beginning, but when I wasn't allowed to do _it_, frustration got bottled up inside me until I just...snapped. It was better this way. Everyone should be used to it by know. If whoever'd just came in knew what was good for him, he'd get what he came for and leave, completely ignoring me.

But that never seemed to be the case. Out of some misplaced sense of obligation, anyone who walked in on me doing _it_ always felt the need to ask the same stupid question. This guy was the same. "Are you alright, Officer?"

I merely shifted my gaze up to him, sure that my black hair was covering most of my face, and my black eyes were piercing. My glares never failed to strike fear into those I turned it upon. This guy was the same - I saw a shiver shoot through his tall frame. Why were all these people the same? How..._irritating._

I said nothing, and he didn't seem to get the message. "Did you...fall, Officer?"

My expression didn't change. "Did...are you looking for something?"

Why wasn't he taking the hint? Most people would have left my now. A few guys, trying to hit on me, and a few girls, being the overly happy I-believe-in-the-good-of-all-people type, had stayed longer, forcing themselves to meet my eyes and offering, in different ways, to 'help' me. I didn't want help, and if this man offered, he'd turn out just like them - running down the halls, covered in blood, scratches, and bruises, screaming about the psycho in the storage closet.

"Do you want some help, miss...?"

He'd said it. He'd said that _stupid _word!

I snapped.

"You should apologize to Second Lieutenant Falman."

I glanced up at the Colonel, slightly surprised he was here. That guy I attacked - that _Falman_ - must be one of his subordinates. Mustang was touchy about his people.

I went back to sorting my papers. It wasn't going well. I was a lost cause when it came to anything that involved _order_. Why on earth had I joined the military? Parental _guidance_, that's why. It should be illegal for parents to expect their kids to straiten up if they join the military. But I guess you can't outlaw stupid thoughts, can you?

"Warrant Officer Crow, I believe I just asked you to do something."

_What you just said had no question in it._ But I didn't say anything. What was the point? I wasn't going to apologize to this _Falman _guy.

"And you should clean up that storage room while you're at it. I know you go in there to vent your anger issues, but you should clean up when you get done. I thought that was the agreement we had?"

I did remember not objecting to something like that the last time Mustang had scolded me, but then again, I usually didn't agree to or disagree to anything anyone said to me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd spoken. It wasn't something I liked doing. It seemed like a waste of effort, despite the fact that everyone seemed bent on there never being a single moment of silence in their meaningless, pathetic lives as they filled it to suffocating levels with their aggravating, vain banter. Worms.

I grabbed my head with my hands and forced my eyes shut. I was thinking too hard again. It made my head hurt. I wished I could just _not think._ Then at least inside my head there would be peace and quiet.

The next time I needed to do _it, _I headed to my designated storage room. It was small and out of the way, so no one usually heard me as I tore apart the shelves and screamed and screamed and screamed. Did screaming count as talking? It seemed like that was the only time I ever used my vocal cords anymore.

I opened the door and found something that stopped me in my tracks. My storage room was clean. The shelves, though still bent and beaten up, were in their rightful places. There were no files on the ground, but stacked on shelves and in cabinets. The light, which I had broken more that once, had been replaced and had a protective plastic covering put on it. The blood stains from when I tended to punch the walls had been scrubbed mostly away, though some still shone like crusted age on the concrete. There was even a small punching bad hanging in the corner.

Suddenly, I didn't want to use this room like I normally did. All the anger and frustration I'd come here to vent had vanished, though I wasn't sure where it had gone. How strange.

Mustang had told me to clean it, so it wasn't him. He'd known I'd just tear it apart again anyway, so he didn't seem like the type to bother. And, since I didn't really know anyone else, that left-

"Can I help you, Officer Crow?"

I'd always considered myself a tall person, but even though I was standing beside him and he was sitting at the lunch table with two others, I could tell he would be taller than me, were he to stand. Oddly, that was something I respected, though genetics was not a thing that should be proud of, as it could not be controlled. But I'd never claimed to be a logical person.

I didn't reply, as per my usual behavior, even though approaching him at all was out of the ordinary for me. But no one had ever cared enough to clean my storage room before. Or to leave a punching bag for me. And even, as I'd found later, boxes of bandages, disinfectants, and other health supplies one prone to hurting herself might need. No one had ever cared like that. My anger issues had always been my fault. Something I choose to do - choose to not control. When I didn't take my meds, when I lashed out at people, when I bottled myself up and didn't speak or ask for help - that made this all my fault. And when you did bad things by choice, and hurt everyone around you, people started to look down on you and never bothered to help. Instead, you were labeled a 'bad person.'

Why care about a bad person? Why try, with the subtle hint of a punching bag, to get her to stop punching concrete walls and metal cabinets and, thus, stop hurting herself?

It was...a _touching_ (my mind cringed slightly at the word) gesture.

"Um, Officer Crow?"

Falman was still staring at me, as were his lunch mates, and I continued to stare back, not answering. I've found that, when you don't speak, people either leave or fill in the blanks themselves, creating the conversation. Falman was pretty sharp, I figured (being one of Mustang's), so I left it to him not to ignore me. He didn't disappoint. "Is this about...the storage room?"

It was then I took notice of his bandages. Apparently, I'd did a superficial number. Should I feel guilty? I didn't, really. I mean, he's a Second Lieutenant - he should be able to take such a petty beating with grace.

...and why does he keep squinting at me? Is there something on my face, or something wrong with his eyes?

"Roy must have sent her to apologize." One of his companions suggested. I shot him a look that said 'go die' and he recoiled slightly. That shut the squirt up.

"Um, that's not necessary, really." Falman said quickly. I went back to looking at him. And, to my credit, I wasn't glaring.

At least, I wasn't _trying _to glare.

Another few minutes of awkward silence passed again, and I wondered if he'd ever get what I wanted to ...well, er, talk about, for lack of a better word.

In the end I gave up, and, reaching up, I tapped his bandages, and then tapped the bandages I'd found in the storage room and had wrapped around my bruised knuckles.

A light clicked, I think. "Ah, you're here about the actual storage room, not what happened there."

I nodded, and the over weight red head dropped his food right off his fork as Falman smiled at me. I don't think I'd even nodded to someone in a long time. Maybe this was shocking for some people?

"Do you like it?" Falman asked, a little slowly, his smile slipping. "I tried to clean it up for you. Um, I was informed you mess it up often, but I thought that it would be...er, more fun to mess up if it was clean first."

My eyes widened considerably more than they ever had without my eyebrows shooting down and my teeth clenching in a grimace. It didn't feel too weird, though.

"And, well, you'll hurt yourself punching the concrete walls, so the punching bag...and the...bandages...er..."

He trailed off, looking disheartened. I wondered why. I wasn't trying to discourage him. Getting a sudden idea, I walked off.

When I returned, Falman looked thoroughly disappointed, and the other two seemed to be comforting him. They both, appearing shocked, looked up when I approached. I set my newly acquired tray down next to Falman and, pulling out the chair, sat. He lifted his head to look at me, startled. I ignored all three of them and started eating.

I hadn't had to use the storage room in a little over a month. I went there, anyway, from time to time, just to admire how tidy it was. I still got angry, but when that happened, Falman was almost always there. He either tried to steer the conversation to something I liked (without me speaking, he'd actually figured out what I liked to talk about) or distract me somehow. I'd come to enjoy the company fairly well.

Mustang, Breda, Fuery, Hawkeye, Havoc, Sheska - I was getting acquainted with the group to a certain extent. Mostly, I was referred to as "Falman's shadow." Didn't really bother me, but Falman had turned red at it, in the beginning. He was getting used to it now.

But when he went out on a mission for Mustang, I found some odd feelings creeping into my being. It wasn't the anger coming back, or the cynicism and loathing. It...hurt. Like a thudding, rising panic in my chest. The side affects were practically the same, however, as my anger tantrums. I wanted to run, I wanted to scream, and I wanted to break things.

Falman was only to be gone a week, and three days in I thought I was going to hyperventilate. Day four, I never left my office, except to eat and use the restroom. Day five, I didn't eat. Day six, I couldn't even stand my office, and ran for my only sanctuary...

I wasn't sure how long I was there, but I was tired and hungry when the storage room door opened. I didn't even look up at the shadow that had been cast over me. It was Mustang's voice, though, when a dinner plate appeared by my feet. "Falman called."

I nodded briefly.

"They'll be back tomorrow. You don't want him to see you like this, do you?"

Thinking about it for a minute, I shook my head.

"I didn't think so. You don't want to worry him. I told him you were fine."

I nodded again, approving.

"Eat, Officer Crow. Then go back to your office. Falman will expect to find you there tomorrow."

Ignoring the ache as I shifted, I nodded and reached for the plate.

Mustang had left anxiety pills on my plate, and I'd flushed them, as per my deep hatred for medication. I'd been medicated for far too long as a child. I didn't need pills for this. Falman was going to be back at any moment. I wasn't that pathetic. Was I?

I had refused to eat for two days, locking myself in my office in a paranoid panic. That was pretty bad. I felt like I was that kid again, hiding in her closet for fear that the doctors would come. They only stopped coming when I was old enough to make my parents think it wasn't mental problems I had, only teenage rebellion.

Maybe I did need a doctor. I obviously had issues. I'd known Falman barely over a month. I had been just fine - minus the anger outbursts in the storage room - before I'd met him. But maybe that was it. Maybe it was because Falman had kept me from the anger outbursts that, when he'd left, I'd freaked out. I'd become scared that, without him, I'd go back to being the old me. The one that no one talked to, that people were afraid of, that hated her life and everything in it, and wished that she could die and yet was to scared to.

The truth was, I was happy with this new person Falman had helped me to become. This stronger, less angry, slightly normal (though still mute) person.

_Would I be almost normal if I wasn't mute?_ I wondered.

I'd watched out the window when the car had pulled up, dropping Falman, Breda, and Fuery off. Falman had glanced up at my office while heading up the front steps, and had smiled and waved. It made me wonder if I should have smiled back, but he continued like he hadn't expected me to.

I don't think I'm ready to smile just yet. Heck, I was scared to death of using my vocal cords. I wanted to practice talking, but didn't at the same time. What if I hadn't used them in so long that they didn't work? What if they hadn't worked all along and I had just gotten so used to not talking I'd forgotten? I wasn't the mentally healthiest person in the world. It was possible.

But I pushed my fears away (as well as the rising panic and need to run) as best I could and headed to Mustang's office. I could hear voices inside. The guys had come here to report first. I know Mustang had said Falman would come by my office to see me, but...

I knocked when things quieted down a bit. I was told to enter.

"F-Falman?" I asked tentively, sticking my head in the room.

Everyone stared at me like I was some kind of miraculous phenomenon. Except Mustang. He recovered first, and grinned. "I'm almost done with him, Officer Crow. Could you give us a bit longer?"

I nodded, then mumbled "storage" before closing the door behind me.

It worked. They'd stared at me like a freak, but my voice _had_ worked. I should have known it would, with all the screaming in the storage room I used to do. I was just being overly anxious, that was all. Stupid, really.

I was leaned against the wall of the storage room when, sometime later, the door opened and Falman stepped in with a small smile. "Officer Crow."

"Freesia." I muttered, not looking at him.

"Freesia?" He seemed a little shocked at my sudden offer for a first name basis, but he smiled a bit more sincerely. "Then, I guess you can call me Vato."

I glanced at him and nodded. Then I tapped my temple.

"Hm?" He didn't get it, but I didn't feel like putting whole sentences together just yet.

I tapped his temple, right next to his eyes, and then tapped my own, pulling on the bottom of my eye with my other finger. "Black. Vato?"

I tapped him again, and this time he got it. "Oh. My eyes are brown."

I nodded. He was always squinting so much, I could never tell. Tilting my head up, I tried to get a better look, to see if I could tell for myself. Oddly, Falman backed up into the wall, so I edged closer. He seemed kinda stiff and a little sweaty and red. I wondered if he had a fever or something. I pressed my forehead to his, checking to see if his skin was hot.

He sucked in a breath.

It took that for me to really realize how close I was to him. I mean, I was _pressing my forehead to his_. He was taller then me, so it took some work to get my forehead up there, so when he sucked in that breath, I felt the air rush past my lips into his mouth as it snapped shut. That was when I realized how this might seem to him.

Secluded, small storage closet. Alone. First name basis. No speaking. Guy against the wall, girl practically rubbing up against him. Her face to his. So close...they could kiss.

My brain shut down. I swear, it seriously did. I remembered all the times I wished it would just get quiet up there, and wondered at how nice it would be. It wasn't nice. My brain wasn't chattering away, like normal, and I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out what to do now. I was frozen. Everything was frozen.

But...I could finally see it. The brown in his wide, shocked eyes. It was a darker, tree bark brown. Not what most people would consider a nice color. But somehow...It looked good on him.

Letting out the trembling breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, I lowered my forehead from his, slightly. Slowly, while I backed away, his eyes grew a little dimmer as he, too, let out that trembling held breath. I paused and, not being able to help myself, my eyes flittered away from his, momentarily, and rested on his lips. Instantly my eyes shot back to his, but...the, er, _damage _was done.

Our heads tilted in opposite directions, and, slowly, we moved closer...closer...closer...

Until there wasn't any space between us any more.


	2. More Uses of Storage Closets

So I might have...freaked out a bit. And considering my history of psychotic breakdowns and emotional explosions, that shouldn't be that surprising to anyone who knew anything about me at all. But still.

I was sitting in my office, my elbows on my desk, and my hands clamped over my head, forcing it down and hurting it with the pressure. Pain felt better – it was something else to concentrate on, rather than my mental instability. It reminded me of when I used to cut. More doctor visits, and thus more panic attacks, had convinced me that that particular solution was not worth the reprocussions. But a bit of pain still helped, so long as I didn't leave any marks.

But that wasn't what I was really thinking about.

I cringed, rolling my eyes into the back of my head.

So I might have...freaked out a lot. But Vato should know me well enough not to take what had happened as rejection, right? Because I definately hadn't meant it like that.

Of course, most guys would interpret the girl they'd just kissed backing away from them and then bolting from the room as a bad thing, wouldn't they? Plus, I might have broke a few things during my race to my office. Like a picture frame or two. And a cart full of today's mail. And Lieutenant Fury.

My mind was still realing, obviously. Keeping my thoughts on any kind of track was proving way too difficult, so I just let it wander – even though it kept wandering back to the one thing I didn't want to think about.

Vato.

The kiss.

Oh, _man_. What was supposed to do now?

A knock at the door caused me to pysically recoil from my desk, knocking over my chair, scattering a pile of paperwork to the floor, and slamming back into the window behind me. I think I heard it crack.

The window frame, not my skull. My head was harder than that.

"Officer Crow?" Mustang peaked his head through the door, probably because he heard the racket. He watched me slide down the wall to the floor with raised brows. "Just wanted to see what was wrong. Fury says you shoved him into the women's restroom when you ran past him down the hall. Said you looked like you were scared out of your mind. What's up? I thought you'd be spending time with Falman about now."

Apart of me wanted to die of embarasment right there.

Mustang stepped slowly into the room, closing the door lightly behind him. "What's wrong? I thought you were making some progress here."

Oddly enough, it was at that moment that I realized that Roy Mustang was my best friend. Because I had to impulse to spill my guts. Whenever I had been doing badly, it had always been Mustang to help me back up. He always listened to me, took care of me, and was all around good to me. But it wasn't the same thing as with Vato-

...crap, Vato.

Stuttering horribly, I tried to explain. "V-vaat-to k-k-k-k-k-kisssss."

Mustang's eyes shot wide. "Did you just say _kiss?_"

Blushing furiously, I nodded.

"And Vato as in _Falman_?"

I nodded again. Mustang grinned. "And that's a bad thing?"

"N-no!" I spat.

"Then why are you _here _instead of with him?"

I moaned, letting my head pount backward against the wall. "D-don't kn-now!"

"Oh, poor Officer Crow's dealing with her first love~!" Mustang practically sang, leaning back against the door. "Bet you feel all messed up inside, right?"

I nodded vigorously.

"Confused about what you feel?"

Again, I nodded, letting my hands slip away from my head so I could look up at him.

"Riding the adrenhaline rush that came with your embarrasment?"

I leaned forward, placing my palms on the floor to hold myself up, giving Mutang my rapt attention.

"Unsure of what to do now, where your friendship is going to go?" While he had been speaking, Mustang's giddy, smug expression had slowly softened, and now he was honestly smiling at me with care and admiration. "Are you scared, Crow?"

A few tears slipt down, unbidden.

Yes, I was scared. Because, for the first time in my life, I cared about someone other than myself. I wasn't medicated, I wasn't institutionalized, and I wasn't forcing myself to try to be some docile, puppet of a person that I couldn't truly be. I was me, and I was falling in love.

With Vato.

And we'd kissed.

And a man didn't kiss someone like me. I was violent, I was angry, and I was a loner. I didn't attract male attention, not with my short, messy black locks that looked like I'd hacked them off with scissors or my intimidating death glares. Not with my tall frame and A-cup, or my bloody knuckles and refusal to communicate verbally.

But I wasn't just talking about _any _man. I was talking about Vato. And Vato wouldn't have kissed me...not if he didn't care about me. Not if he didn't-

I knew him that well. I trusted him that much. I believed he wouldn't, purposely, hurt me. And I knew he wasn't the type to kiss and tell. In fact, he wasn't really the type to kiss at all. Vato Falman wasn't exactly known around Central for playing the field. He was honest, he was good, and he cared about his comrades, but he didn't really date.

He was a studious, work-a-holic of a man, a walking textbook. A nerd.

So, that meant...well, that meant the obvious. He cared about me. Liked me. Maybe...maybe l-lo-

I gulped, leaning to close the short distance between my forehead and the floor. It was cool and smooth, and felt good against the heat in my face.

"Crow?" Mustang's hand was on my back, pushing down to keep it from moving so rapidly. "Breath slower, Officer. Calm down."

I sucked in air, and this time squeezed my eyes shut, making an effort to let it out slower. It was difficult, and it took a few more seething breaths to get into a better rythme. I gasped a few times, choking and coughing, a sob or two breaking free before it was done.

"There there, better, better." The pressure on my back lessened, than began to form a soothing circle. "Talk to me, Crow."

"D-don-n't." I choked out, growing angrier and angrier by the minute. Why? Because of _this_. Because of how I was, how I reacted, what I did. "D-don't w-want to, t-to be l-like this-s!"

I brought my hand up and slammed my fist down onto the floor, feeling the impact's shake up through my forehead and into my skull. I wanted to do it agian and again and again, but Mustang had my now raised wrist held in a vice grip, unyielding.

"Hey, now. None of that." He said firmly, pulling me up by my captured arm until he could see my face, tear stained and red. "I thought we were past this."

He was talking about my anger, my self destructive and violent ways. I had thought I was past it, too. But it wasn't just some _stage _I was in or something I was _going through_. I had a problem. I'd always had a problem. Falling in love had just overriden the anger, the pain, the depression, for a while. It was still there, inside. It probably always would be.

And that was what scared me most of all.

"N-norm-mal!" I sobbed at Mustang, letting my anger go and feeling only the horrible, horrible saddness that was overwhelming me. "W-want to b-be n-normal-l! I w-want to be norm-mal!"

Mustang only stared down at me, and let me cry.

Because I wasn't ever going to be normal.

Because normal didn't exist.

That standard of living I was always putting up between myself and others – it wasn't real. It was a shield, my ruse. So that I didn't have to face my problems for what they were – apart of me. Something I had to live with, deal with, and decide for myself what to do with. I wasn't going to be 'normal' and I wasn't going to 'get better.' I was me. And that was who I was always going to be.

Whether or not the me that I was today would be the same me I was in years to come was mine to decide.

"Vato." I'd stopped crying, and Mustang released my arm. I brought it up to wipe the tears from my eyes, and counted to three a couple of times, trying to steady my breathing again, like Mustang had helped me earlier. "I want t-to see him."

Mustang grinned at me. "That-a-girl."

Like a gentleman, he helped me up from the floor and even held the door open for me as I headed out into the hall. I didn't even question it when he led me to the staff room.

"Common, Falman. Just tell us what you did, already!"

The voices drifting from the ajar door where loud and amused – obviously Breda and Havoc.

"Crow doesn't freak out like that anymore – you had to have done something."

"I didn't say she had freaked out, she was just in a hurry!" Fury defended me, and that made me feel bad about knocking him into the ladies room.

"Crow doesn't do anything quickly unless she's freaking out," Breda pointed out just as we reached the door.

Mustang was grinning at my face, which I'm sure was not very appealing at the moment. Because Breda was right, too. I wasn't a very...motivated person unless I was extremely overemotional. Maybe my system just bottled everything up until I exploded. That's what it normally felt like.

But Mustang didn't wait to hear anymore and pulled the door the rest of the way open. We stepped in as the group turned to look at us, appropriately abashed. Breda, Havoc, and Fury all seated at the table, Hawkeye against the back wall, and Falman, standing in the middle of the floor like he'd just halted mid pace.

It occured to me at that moment that I should have cleaned up abit before going to look for him. My eyes were probably bloodshot and dreadfully puffy. At least Mustang wasn't holding me up anymore.

My heart started racing almost immediately at the sight of him. It all came rushing back, like it wanted to overload me – the week of him being gone, the feel of his lips hesitant on mine, my confusion and anger and sadness back at the office. My stomach did flips, my chest felt heavy, and my mind raced with a newly formed headache probably brought on by all the sobbing.

And none of it mattered a bit as Vato took a slow step forward and stopped, reaching his hand out worridly towards me and halting it in midair. "Er, Officer Crow-"

_Officer Crow?_ _I was back to being _Officer Crow_?_

He'd only even called me Freesia once, but that in and of itself, no matter how small, had been a big shift for me. No one else called me that except my parents, who had stopped mattering to me a long time ago. Maybe because I blamed them for the doctors, the drugs, and the military. But they'd only done all those things because they cared for me, and worried about my health, hadn't they? And, because of that, I was who I was today, no matter how insecure, and that was the woman who'd fallen in love with Vato Falman. And he was _Vato_ to me now, not "Falman" anymore in my mind.

And it was all these weird emotions he was making me feel that had me accepting myself, had me reigning in my anger and hatred of the world, and had me _considering _calling my parents – or at least writing them. Yes, talking on phone was still beyond me. But a letter...

Looking up at Vato, I narrowed my eyes. I saw him flinch away and gulp, but I opened my mouth and asked, loudly, "What-t happened t-to Freesia?"

I think the whole room gasped. In harmony.

Behind me, Mustang was chuckling. "I think first names became dangerous territory when you ran out of the room screaming."

I jabbed him in the stomach with my elbow. "W-wasn't scream-ming. Jus-st conf-fused." I licked my lips and cleared my throat. All of this talking just felt _weird_. I had to buck up alot of courage to turn back to Vato now that I'd looked away, but I met his eyes determinedly. "A-are you m-mad, Vato?"

He just stood there, staring at me for a moment, before he suddenly started to shake his head – rather violently, really. "N-no! No, I'm not mad! ...Freesia."

He finished his sentence by taking my name on the end, hesitantly, and a little breathlessly. If I hadn't already been completely flushed from the whole ordeal, just the way he said my name would have done it just then, anyway. I hadn't realized just how I loved the way it sounded when he said it.

Heck, I'd never even liked the name before now.

There was alot more I wanted to say, but I didn't want to say _anything_ at that moment. I was getting a little irritated with talking, and it wasn't how I was used to expressing myself anyway, so I decided it was time to just drop the practice for the day. After all, I'd been using it plenty in the past ten minutes after having not spoken to anyone for years. That was progress enough for one day.

So, instead, I merely closed the distance between us in three long strides and wrapped my arms around his waist. My head was buried in his chest before he had even reacted.

Vato's hands hung in the air around me, like he wasn't quite sure what to do with them. I ignored his discomfort and shot a glare over to the others, still seated at the table. I removed one hand long enough to point at the door.

The message was obvious even without Mustang clearing his throat. The crowd shuffled out, nervous grins plastered on their faces (except Hawkeye, who was _trying_ not to smile). When Mustang snapped the door shut behind them all, I let my hand fall back to my side, but kept the other one tucked around Vato's waist.

In the silence, I struggled to master myself.

Part of me was decided, determined. I knew how I felt, I knew that he cared, and all I wanted to do was just _be _with him. Maybe even pick up were I'd run off, let him know I was ready now, and sorry.

The other part was still in chaos, struggling. I was alone with him agian. I was nervous as heck. I was touching him – rather intimately – and the realization was sending electricity through me in new and exciting ways.

My head and heart were both pounding, and my stomach was threatening to come out _both _ends, it was so jumpy. My throat was closing in panic, my need to run and scream and even cry were all boiling up inside me agian, ready to burst.

Just like after the kiss. Just like every time I had to escape to that miserable little storage closet.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

I finally turned and looked up at him again, scared to death and knowing I showed it, that he could see it. But I wasn't going to run away.

"Freesia..." He said it again, like a whisper, and it made a new thrill coarse through me – the same as all the others, essentially, when I try and think to describe it; and yet...New. Strong. Weak. Fiery. Chilled. Electric. Subtle. _Everything_. "A-are you alright? I mean, about earlier – I'm sorry if I did, er...if you didn't, that is-"

Adorable was the first word that came to mind to describe his struggle for words, even though it didn't make me smile and Vato's rather gruff exterior was anything but. And yet, I felt like he needed comfort. Reassurance.

I couldn't say I wasn't afraid anymore. But, at least, I wasn't afraid of this.

I brought my free hand up to his face and cupped his cheek, pulling him down only slightly so as to meet him. And, without me even thinking about it, his name slipped out before out lips met. After years of not talking, I just couldn't make that one word stop.

Because it said everything I couldn't. It, and the kiss.

"_Vato._" _I missed you. I'm sorry. I love you._

When my lips slid off his, I pressed them back on again, not willing to let it go – to let _him_ go.

He seemed surprised – I was having that effect on him alot today – but he did kiss back, gently, with slightly shaking breaths.

We both jumped apart, scared half out of our wits, when a loud yell came from the hallway. It took a moment to register what was being said.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS? THEY'RE OFFICIAL NOW? FALMAN AND _CROW!_"

Both we, the above mentioned, went scarlet at the exclamation. Immediately, I was through the door and stomping towards the group of officers crowded around Mustang, gawking. He saw me coming. They didn't.

"DEATH!" I shouted, and I was certain it was the loudest thing I'd ever said. The guys all turned to me, blanched, and scattered at once, running for their lives.

I didn't catch any of them, so I whirled back around in a huff. In the doorway stood Vato, still flushed with a light red, but smiling softly at me. I felt my face grow hotter, but nodded slowly at him, acknowledging both to him and to myself what was between us.

And with a growing warmth inside my chest, I realized that, for the first time in my life, I felt truly happy.


End file.
